


At The End of The Day, I’ll Always Love You

by QueenOfRohirrim



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Brotherly Love, Brothers, Family Fluff, Gen, Jaskier is not ready for these wolves, Kaer Morhen, M/M, Sibling Rivalry, Small Lambert, Tired Big Brother Geralt, Wolf Pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26299384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfRohirrim/pseuds/QueenOfRohirrim
Summary: Geralt and Lambert have always bickered and fought, but there were good moments too. Good moments that never failed to overshadow the bad.
Relationships: Eskel & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Lambert & Vesemir, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Lambert, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 6
Kudos: 186





	At The End of The Day, I’ll Always Love You

Geralt hadn’t even gotten the chance to open his eyes completely.

The fuzzy outline of his little brother came slowly into focus as he peeked one lid open, and honestly, the fact that Lambert was standing over him this early in the morning should have tipped him off that something wasn’t right.

“Lambert?” The silver haired witcher muttered in confusion before he was suddenly struck in the gut with a wooden rolling pin.

That succeeded in waking him up.

“Ah! Fuck!” Geralt gasped, sitting up in bed and holding his stomach. “You little shit!”

Lambert giggled and hurried away before his elder brother could grab him and Geralt growled bitterly in pain and defeat.

Eskel yawned and stirred from slumber much more peacefully, rubbing his eyes and blinking at Geralt from across their room. “What happened?” He yawned. “What’re you screaming for?”

Geralt climbed from the covers, still holding his belly, which would surely be bruised soon. “That little asshole hit me...” He growled. 

Eskel chuckled, lying back down to rest some more. “Told ya to lock the door last night.” He reminded Geralt, who threw a bundle of dirty clothes into his brother’s face.

“I did lock the door!” He hissed. “The little bastard must’ve picked it! All so he could cause me more agony than he already has!”

“You’re over reacting.” Eskel sighed. “He’s just a kid.”

“Says the one that’s never been smacked or bitten or scratched!” Geralt argued back. “He’s a demon is what he is!”

“This is exactly why he hits you.” Eskel hummed. “You’ve gotta be gentle with him, Geralt.”

“Gentle!? Ha!” Geralt growled, violently tugging on a black undershirt before he turned to leave for breakfast. “You’re such a genius, aren’t you Eskel? I’ll be gentle with that little monster the day that he decides to stop torturing me for his own sick amusement!”

Eskel failed to surpress another laugh as his brother stomped out of their bedroom.

“Are you going to Vesemir?” He called after Geralt. “Nobody likes a tattletale! It’ll do you more harm than good!”

“Don’t care!” Geralt snapped. “I’m going to enjoy my breakfast while that little pest gets sat in the corner!”

...

“Winter’s making you slow.” Geralt chuckled at Eskel after he’d knocked him into the dirt in the training yard.

A few of the eldest initiates giggled from where they’d been watching the grown witchers fight, and Eskel blushed with shame.

“Come on. Ignore them.” Geralt sighed, reaching out to help his brother up to his feet. “It wasn’t that bad of a-OW! FUCK!”

The white haired wolf yelped in pain when the weight of a practice sword was driven into the back of his legs. 

He stumbled with a growl, looking back to find Lambert, frowning up at him, sword still in hand and positioned to strike again if Geralt gave him reason.

“Why!?” The witcher demanded of his much smaller brother, who simply kicked him in the shin before running away while Geralt went to his knees with a hiss.

Now the boys nearby were laughing at him.

“Alright, alright, get back to your drills!” Eskel shooed the crowd away, carefully helping his brother to stand again. “You alright?” He asked once Geralt could put weight on his assaulted appendage. 

The wounded wolf growled, pushing Eskel away. “Gonna feed that little worm to the forktails...” He snarled while Eskel grinned.

“Aw, come on, Geralt.” He chuckled softly. “Give Lambert a break. He thought you were hurting me.”

“I wasn’t!” Geralt snapped.

“Well, he didn’t know.” Eskel sighed. “Come on. Let’s go inside. We’ve trained enough for one day.”

...

Geralt had been bitten at least twice and smacked too many times to count the week he walked out of the keep for extra firewood and was met with a pebble to the forehead.

He cursed at the impact and growled when his hand touched the streak of blood spilling from the cut above his brow, but it had been a long few days and he was too tired to react much more.

“Lambert, I’m tired of your shit!” He warned his little brother, who was quietly watching from a window to Vesemir’s office. Geralt couldn’t see him there. At least he couldn’t yet.

“Whatcha gonna do about it, bitch!?” He yelled down from the tower, alerting his older brother, who looked up at him and caught another pebble to the face.

“Ah! Fucking shit! You little prick!” 

“Asshole!” Lambert shouted back.

“Where’s Vesemir!?” Geralt demanded. Another rock was thrown, knicking the armored plating over his shoulder. 

Lambert stuck out his tongue and disappeared through the window.

...

Geralt flinched when Lambert climbed up onto the couch with him. 

So far it had been a quiet evening for Vesemir and his three boys. The cooks had brought their plates up to Vesemir’s wing of the castle, all four of them had enjoyed a nice dinner together, wine was passed around between the three witchers, and the pup hadn’t pulled any tricks or cursed even once at the table.

Geralt tensed, sensing that a quick change to the uneventful night was coming when Lambert approached him with a large book in his little arms.

He eyed the boy carefully as his brother pulled himself up into the seat next to him, but what he didn’t expect was for the book to be offered to him instead of striking him in the face.

“Read it.” Lambert demanded. 

Geralt frowned and glanced around for Eskel, who must have gone up to bed early. “Where’s Vesemir?” He asked the pup then.

“He said to ask you.” Lambert huffed, pushing the book at Geralt. “Read it.” He commanded him again. 

Geralt growled low in his throat at his brother’s attitude but he took the book anyway and opened it up to the marker Vesemir had placed between the pages.

Lambert scooted closer, explaining to Geralt that there were sometimes pictures on the pages and he wanted to be able to see them. The Witcher didn’t protest. In fact, he didn’t mind at all, even when Lambert was beginning to fall asleep against his arm as he read to him of water fae who made their homes beneath the banks of some made up enchanted river.

By the time Geralt had made it through an entire chapter of the gilded fairytale, his little brother was snoring softly, both of his tiny hands gripping his big brother’s sleeve, as if he were an overgrown stuffed animal or a favorite pillow.

Geralt felt his heart grow heavy in his chest and he closed the book, setting it aside and looking down at Lambert with confusion and wonder.

It wasn’t hard for the wolf to admit that he loved the little menace. It was just strange to see the rampaging pup show him any affection in return.

“Now see?” Vesemir spoke softly when he entered the sitting room from his office. “The two of you can get along when you really try.”

The elder witcher reached out for Lambert, and Geralt almost stopped his father when he picked his brother up to carry him off to bed.

“Goodnight, Little Wolf.” He whispered instead, though Lambert couldn’t hear him.

....

Geralt often woke to a weight on his chest, and after awhile he never even needed to open his eyes to see who had joined him in the night.

Lambert usually sought out Vesemir when he’d been frightened by a nightmare, or Eskel if he couldn’t find the old wolf. Then there were times where he bypassed their elder brother entirely and ran straight to Geralt for comfort.

The lad never woke his brother as he climbed into his bed, afraid of being sent away if he did. Though each time Geralt awoke to find little Lambert lying against him chest and drooling all over his shirt, he simply ruffled his hair and allowed him to sleep to his heart’s content, never moving an inch until Lambert had woken on his own.

Eskel always smiled when he found his brothers cuddled up together at first light, but he never laughed and never teased. He was happy to see them bonding rather than fighting.

Those mornings were always the best ones, and Geralt treasured every one of them he was granted.

...

“Wakey wakey, snowbird!”

The breath was struck from Geralt’s body for a split second as the wooden cutting board came down onto his unguarded middle.

“Fuck!” He wheezed as he woke, alerting Jaskier, who sat up quickly in alarm.

“Geralt!?” The bard panicked as Lambert began to laugh maniacally at his own mischief.

“You little fucking prick!” Geralt growled once he’d recovered his strength. He reached out to grab Lambert by the arm but his younger brother had already leaped backward and out of his way.

“Ooh! Too slow, old man!” He taunted the White Wolf, running through the open door to his brother’s bedroom as Geralt hurried to catch him. He continued to laugh the whole way down the stairs and through the halls.

Eskel, overhearing the commotion, peeked his head into the room, rubbing tired eyes and raising a brow at Jaskier. “What happened?” He yawned.

“Lambert!” Jaskier exclaimed, still a bit shocked by the violent wake up call.

“Ah.” Eskel gave a nod, as if that explained everything. “Guess some things never change.”

Jaskier looked at him curiously. “What do you...?”

“After breakfast, little lark.” Eskel yawned again. “It’s too early for stories now.”


End file.
